


How You Get the Girl

by julesby10



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project, Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Mutual Pining, Nerd/Jock AU, Romance, jock kanan, nerd dia, prep mari, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 21:31:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13303650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julesby10/pseuds/julesby10
Summary: Kanan Matsuura is your local secretly awkward jock, Mari Ohara is the prep with an Instagram follower count higher than your bank balance, Dia Kurosawa is a nerd with a hidden talent for getting caught in Mari’s shenaningans and a not-so-secret passion for gay idols. This is gonna be good.





	How You Get the Girl

**Author's Note:**

> The au this fic is set in is jhaskii‘s nerd/jock au (look it up on Tumblr!) I had a whole lot of fun writing it!  
> Pease imagine the setting as an amphitheater classroom. Just because of Aestethics.

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to reconnect the neurons she was sure she had lost during the past half an hour or so. Algebra classes were hell. And apparently Satan himself had decided to grace them with his very presence, seeing how hot the room was.

Kanan had already taken off her varsity, rolled up the sleeves of her grey t-shirt and would’ve sold her soul for a pair of shorts and flip flops. Or maybe a swimsuit.

She collapsed on her desk, a groan escaping her throat at the mere thought of a pool.

Suddenly, she heard a soft giggle come from the row in front of her and she opened one eye to be met with yellow irises bright with mirth.

Kanan had just a second, enough time to formulate the thought _‘I’m gay’_ , before the pretty girl in question bit her lip to hide a smile and turned around to go back to her notes.

Kanan blinked. She was confused.

She had a vague - but that was an euphemism - idea of who the girl was, she was pretty sure she was following her instagram, at least. The whole student body did.

With thoughts on constants and integrals replaced by curiosity, Kanan stopped paying attention the lesson altogether. Whipping her phone from her pocket she tapped here and there until a photo of the pretty girl appeared on her screen.

Mari Ohara. Blonde, hot and not at all dumb apparently.

_Does she really have a 5.0 GPA? Is-is that even possible?_

She had credentials alright. Because not only was she a straight-A student, but she was also an instagram celebrity and a filthy rich one at that. She was also held as a nice person, which Kanan wanted to call bullshit on because _this girl has to have at least one flaw, dammit._

Sudden movement pulled her eyes away from the screen and she watched the painfully obvious nerd girl sitting next to Mari as she gracefully took off her sweater. How do you even do that _gracefully._

Her silky brown hair cascaded down her back as she neatly folded the garment and placed it beside her. She had started unbuttoning the sleeves of her button up when something seemingly caught her attention.

To Kanan’s surprise the nerdy girl confidently raised a hand, leaving her task half done, and politely pointed out how the equation developed on the board presented a mistake in the middle part of the fourth line, which the professor had just done writing.

Kanan had to admit her voice was nice, if a bit cold perhaps.

After a full minute in which the whole class stared at the girl in disbelief, the professor hastily thanked “Miss Kurosawa” for correcting him, shame apparent on his features, and erased the incriminated proof in a click.

“Miss Kurosawa”’s response was a nod as she silently returned to neatly rolling her sleeves up.

Mari nudged her side, whispering just loud enough for a now very interested Kanan to hear. “You should stop correcting him Dia, otherwise he’s gonna go into early retirement. Do you want that on your conscience?”

“I firmly believe that, if one happens to make a mistake, they should be promptly corrected. By whom exactly does not matter much.” Dia answered without ungluing her eyes from the board. So she really was cold after all. “He should not be ashamed if the one to correct him happens to be one of his students, I do believe it is a sign his way of teaching proves to be effective.”

Okay, formal, overly formal, but not cold. The girl, Kurosawa Dia, was revealing herself to be quite the surprise. Kanan assumed she and Mari were pretty good friends, but she had never seen Dia in any of Mari’s pictures or had never associated the two in any way. Though the connections could totally be there as Mari wasn’t exactly the popular girl stereotype. She was rich, yes, but she also had a perfect GPA, which Kanan had a feeling was one of Dia’s requirements for talking to people.

Forgotten for a while, but still very much present, Kanan’s body was melting where she sat. She could feel drops of sweat roll down her back and she was sweating in places she didn’t even know could sweat. And that was saying something when she’d been playing sports all her life.

Kanan was just beginning to wonder how Dia could bear all that hair on her neck when she started gathering the mass of brown locks in her hands, exposing her nape. Kanan was then entranced by Dia’s nimble fingers working their magic on hair that was longer than she expected. But they were gone just as they had appeared, quick to tie the perfect bun up with a pencil.

Kanan forgot she was in public, though honestly _who cares_ , and let her gaze wander over what of Dia’s figure she could see. Her neck was slender and shimmering with small beads of sweat and her shoulders, probably her whole figure, were smaller than Kanan had anticipated. She was dainty with a touch of British all-male college, if that made any sense.

She could’ve easily been a cheerleader, had she chosen that road, but it wasn’t like that. Fortunately for Kanan, probably, because the whole cheerleading squad held a grudge against her, she still didn’t know if it was due to her refusal of their invitation or because she hadn’t joined the football team.

The bell rang and she thanked the gods above for putting a relaxing class such as AP Biology right after the generally stressful Algebra. She shoved her books into her backpack and tied her jacket around her hips, but her bag unceremoniously fell to the floor when she caught a glimpse of Dia’s features.

Her lips were plump and pink without the aid of any makeup, a beauty mark on the right corner of her mouth the only perfect decoration for her fair skin. The profile of her nose was delicate and it let to strikingly turquoise eyes that shone even in a badly lit high school classroom.

Her cheekbones were dusted with pink from the scorching temperature and they were the perfect model for the slightly ragged, but still amazingly classy appearance her solid sky blue shirt gave her. Sleeves rolled up, first two buttons undone to let the smallest silver of skin show, her updo was the only fitting hairstyle to frame such breathtaking beauty.

It all lasted but a moment, as Dia rolled down her sleeves, buttoned up her collar and let her hair free again, returning to the flawless nerdy girl Kanan had seen correcting an estimated professor. Minus the sweater, which was obviously too heavy to be of any use.

Kanan felt like she’d just seen something she shouldn’t have.

“Pick your jaw up from the floor, pretty thing.”

An amused voice snapped Kanan out of her daze and she jumped up to see Mari Ohara, in all the glory of a white top with ‘mega milk’ printed on it in blocky letters and a high waisted skirt, staring at her with an amused smile on her lips and straight up laughter in her golden eyes.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” she sputtered in response, realising she was frozen in the motion of throwing her backpack on her shoulder but _without_ the backpack. Dia turned to the two with a completely neutral expression, except for the slight inquisitive look in her eyes, directed mostly at Mari and not at the dark haired stranger awkwardly standing on her right.

Mari calmly walked over to Dia and put her hands on her shoulders from behind, giving Kanan the feeling she was showcasing her. Dia looked perplexed, if still mostly neutral.

“I very well know that our Dia here is a beauty in full bloom,” she started, and Dia side eyed her, but she continued on. “I also noticed that you’ve been staring at her for the most part of an hour.”

Kanan choked on air at that because she’d thought no one had really noticed her paying too much attention to the pretty, nerdy girl seated in front of her.

Simultaneously, Dia blushed, thankfully hidden under her already rosy cheeks, and her eyes widened just slightly, Mari still very much there, preventing her from bolting for the door.

Kanan lowered her head and scratched the back of her neck in embarrassment. “I’m… very sorry, it was rude of me.”

Dia felt Mari’s presence shift and then leave her, just to see her appear in front of the polite stranger.

“Chin up beautiful stranger!” she quipped, tapping Kanan’s head with an index and middle finger covered in rings. “Dia’s not mad, right?”

Kanan carefully raised her gaze at that, treading on unknown territory still.

Dia didn’t even have the _time_ to properly formulate a rather frustrated response for her friend, because she just carried on like a panzer.

“See? Shiny!” the blonde cheered, almost prompting Dia’s automatic response to poor use and placement of English lexicon.

“Now, I do believe that you should tell us your name, right Dia? Because you already know hers and you _obviously_ know me.”

Mari, Kanan noticed, was just slightly taller than her, by contrast she had a typically feminine figure compared to her own muscular build.

Kanan couldn’t help but mentally laugh at being stuck in that kind of situation with a pretty nerd and the popular girl who was really a weirdo. So she put her clammy hands in her pockets, breathed out a sigh and unsheathed her best smile.

“I’m Kanan Matsuura, pleased to meet you both.”

Dia felt herself grow warmer and consciously tried to blame it on the weather, clutching the strap of her bag hoping Kanan wouldn't notice her nervousness.

Mari then jumped up, startling them both. “Oh I knew it! I knew it!”

Dia shot her a questioning glare at that point, because she’d seen the clock and they were almost late. A Kurosawa was never late.

“I kindly present to you! A fuckboy!” she said with a flourish, smiling both towards a confused Kanan and an increasingly impatient Dia. “The shoes, the way she has her hands in her pockets, the tan, the blindingly white smile and _those muscles_ , boy do I have to tell you a thing or two.”

“Are you done? We’re almost late and you are most certainly bothering Matsuura-san.”

“Just Kanan is fine,” she smiled. “Can I call you by your names? And I actually have a Bio class but you’re not bothering me at all” and she quickly looked at Mari, though she doubted she needed the reassurance.

Dia couldn’t answer then and there, but thankfully Mari had words that counted for two. “Oh you can call me any way you want, trust me,” she laughed, placing a hand on Kanan’s broad shoulders.

A quick breath and Dia was practically dragging Mari out of the room by her collar. “Excuse her terrible manners and our hasty departure Kanan-san, but I refuse to be late to class because of her caprices. Have a good day.”

As Dia finished her sentence, Mari escaped her grasp and jogged to Kanan’s side. To her surprise, she pulled her in for a kiss on the cheek. “You’d look so good in my Instagram pictures.”

As Mari run down to the door to the sound of ‘Dia wait’, Kanan’s attention was yet again drawn to the pretty nerd.

It should have been illegal for someone to look that good in a dress shirt, my god, was the way it hugged her figure perfect. The beige pants she was wearing were also very flattering, especially to her long legs.

Before she crossed the threshold, Dia shot her another glace, which Kanan did not expect.

It should’ve been illegal for someone wearing oxfords to be that pretty.


End file.
